Breakfast in Bed, a Load of Excuses, and Low-Grade Shame

Have you ever had breakfast in bed? On TV they make it seem like the absolute pinnacle of luxurious living, but I don’t think I’d care for it.

For one thing I usually need to piss like Man O’ War when I wake up, have lots of excess air in the pipes, and am not very friendly. If some smiling fool came bounding into the bedroom while I’m still half asleep, and thrust a tray of eggs at me… it wouldn’t be pretty.

And just think of the mess. All the crumbs and the jelly and the grease. After I finished my meal I’d undoubtedly have to strip the bed, and go through that whole routine. Who needs it? Plus, that single flower in a vase they always show? It might trigger a sneezing jag, and I could black-out and hit my head on the nightstand.

Screw it. I’ll just stick with Toaster Strudel by the kitchen sink, the way God intended.

I don’t even like room service in hotels. I’ve only gone that route a couple of times, during the high-flying record weasel years, and wasn’t really a fan. The room smells foody for the rest of the night, I’m eating off a round table one foot from the bed, there’s an awkward interaction with the guy who delivers it, and the dirty dishes sit outside the door for hours and hours.

Also, the whole exercise just feels kinda antisocial and creepy. Ya know? Is it really such an imposition to ride the elevator down a few floors, and eat in a restaurant or bar amongst other humans? Is that simply too much to handle? What are we, Aretha Franklin now?

No, I don’t much care for eating in or near beds, for some reason. I also don’t like TVs in bedrooms, but that’s a different subject, for a different day.

Sorry I’ve been away from the site for so long…

On Wednesday our internet was down, and it sucked. I had a couple of important things that needed to be done online, and scrambled my big ass to the library with my laptop. As I was leaving I saw that it had snowed (who knew?), and had to clear off my car. Plus, I still hadn’t had breakfast or lunch, and needed to be at work early for a meeting. I was a roman candle of profanity.

And yesterday — before I’d even gotten off the platform — a text message was sent to my phone: “Jeff, can you come in today? By 1, preferably?” Grrr… It was supposed to be a day off, but instead… I was careening down I-81 again, my eyes bugging out like Marty Feldman during a prostate exam.

You see how it goes? It never stops. Tonight and all day tomorrow we’re going to be at a gigantic swim meet, and then it’ll be time to start my work week again. And I wonder why I have a hard time getting things done… Pass the beer nuts.

I’ve never, in my life, watched a network reality show. Oh, we watch stuff like House Hunters on cable, and Selling New York (my favorite), but nothing like Survivor or American Idol. However, I’ve been watching Celebrity Apprentice. Adam Carolla is a contestant, so I decided to give it a shot.

And within two weeks… I’m sucked in. I feel mildly ashamed. I have no time, but am setting aside 90 minutes a week for that crap? And actually caring about what happens? What’s next? Crocs? Stick figure decals on the back window of my car? I should hurl myself into the Grand Canyon. But not until the season is over, of course…

There are seven, possibly five, things on my to-do list today. So, I’m gonna stop right here. I’ll try to update on Sunday, to make up for this mess of a week. But we’ll have to see how it goes.

If you want to talk about things in your life that cause you low-grade shame, please do so in the comments. Also, if you have any thoughts on breakfast in bed, or room service, or any of that stuff… Please bring us up to date on it.

And I’m going to get busy on that list now. Thanks for reading, my friends!

I don’t care for breakfast in bed. Or on the couch. Or in an somewhat simplified chair. I need a good sturdy table to eat on, as I am a voracious and animated eater. My food support structure requires no fewer than four points of contact with stable ground, or a base wider than the top. It must also be capable of supporting 2500 pound burst pressure and 1600 pounds of sustained reciprocating force.

Breakfast in bed: 2 or 3 cans of shitty American beer, brought back to the dormancy platform after the emptying of the bladder routine. Should that be cause for low-grade shame? Enjoy your weekend, Surf Reporters.

My only experience of eating in bed came as a hospital patient. Nothing luxurious about that. As soon as I could get out of the bed, I ate at the table in the room. Who wants food in the bed?

Mild level shame? I love Twilight. I really, really love Twilight. And of that, I am ashamed. I held out for years, refusing to read the books or see the movies, but I finally gave in and I was sucked into it. I usually enjoy much more highbrow fare. I guess everyone needs to go slumming every now and then. I can proudly still say that I’ve never watched Jersey Shore or any of the Kardashian shit.

i hate breakfast in bed but obnly because i cant eat as soon as i open my eyeballs. i need to wake up and hang around for a little bit and brush my teeth (cuz i cant eat with a dry gross mouth) before breakfast. i feel so bad cuz sometimes my husband will try and be sweet and bring me a cup of tea and some eggs to me in bed in the morning and i just think uugghh cooome oooon. even though i told him i dont like eating right away, he still does it. i dont say anything, ill just pick at at and say im done.

Never had breakfast in bed, except, as m said, in the hospital. I don’t eat or drink in my car, either. The thought just turns me off.

Shame: I was really into MTV’s “The Real World” during the “Puck and Pedro” years. San Francisco if memory serves me correctly. Now, I’ve graduated to “Snapped” on the Oxygen channel. Beloved, who can’t stand those kinds of shows always asks why the hell I watch them. “Research.”

I’m a labor nurse, and I imagine that checking her cervix is a bit like feeling for the neck of a sweater buried in a 50 gallon barrel of mashed potatoes. Actually, you probably just have to glance to check how dilated she is, because her uterus is probably prolapsed to the point that it’s visible.

When my wife had our second daughter I was in the delivery room for the C-Section. My wife had her Doctor, an Anethesiologist and three nurses. When they cut her open I felt like I was going to puke. Two of the nurses led me out and into a room next door where they gave me oxygen and layed me out on a bed.
I apologized for taking up their time and told them I was okay and they could go back and take care of my wife. One nurse said, “No, we’re not here for her, we’re here for you. This happens all the time!”

I watch hoarders just to get me motivated to clean. I also have a hoarder in the fam, so I can also always see that shit in person if I want.

Theresa, I wish it would be as easy as storming in and throwing all their shit away. But it’s a mental illness. Their stuff is a physical extension of themselves and they go six different ways of crazy if you would try to throw it all out. Just touching it “wrong” = DRAMA! And no, they will NEVER get over it because the violation they feel cuts deep AND they’re typically champion grudge holders. It’s like they hoard those too. Plus they’ll just start hoarding all over again anyway. They really require professional therapy and even that is hit or miss in the success department.

I kind of applaud hoarder shows for bringing the problem to the forefront, But at the same time those shows, and shows like it, are still the 21st century version of the carnival freakshow. Hence the guilty pleasure aspect. 😉

I like the Las Vegas Pawn shop guys, although I think they pay too much. I would like them to offer really low-ball money and argue and get the customer pissed off, they are actually too nice about it.

I actually hate the Detroit Pawn shop owners. They are constantly bickering and bitching. And, their clientele is low end scum bag ghetto assholes, but I watch it anyway because I assume that Les (the old guy) will eventually get shot by one of his hoodlum customers.

Spousal Unit Barb & I actually visited the Gold & SIlver Pawn Shop when we were in Vegas last year (her idea). *MUCH* smaller than it looks on TV, at least the public area. The Harrisons were nowhere in sight, of course. Young armed guard at the door, confirmed to me that he was ex-military. They’d let like 25 people in at a time. No clerk was over the age of 22 and all were heavily festooned with tats and piercings, thus confirming what Colin Cowherd once said on ESPN: “You can have great tattoos or a great job, take your pick. Exactly.

I’m definitely not a fan of breakfast in bed. I hate trying to juggle everything. I almost always need something, like salt and pepper, that I have to get up and get. So what’s the point by then. And if I spill something, it will almost certainly be right where I lay…like the wet spot…no one wants to lay in it.

Never cared for breffix in bed. Or any other eating in bed, except for “eating” – if you know what I mean.

My low-grade shame doesn’t involve TV. It’s the fact that I’m supposed to be some sort of uber-techie, yet I have no clue and no plan for the looming IPv6 debacle. There are many more sources, but that’s on my mind at the moment.
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After having my abdominal muscles cut in deep (2 c-sections, one ectopic), I learned the joys of eating in bed and having the food brought to me. When you realize sitting up is nearly impossible and you’re starving to death, you will find a way to eat any place and in any position you can manage.

After our daughter was born, I would have her hanging off one boob and my food tray in front of me. Once, a piece of rice dropped into her wee ear. (don’t worry – it was right on the edge and I just picked it off).

Breakfast is bed was a weekly thing we did. We’d order up three net-flix, they’d arrive and our Sunday was set. Watched a tone of movies in three or four late fall, winter months span. Bev would go all out on foods and I was the Bloody Mary Miester.

Room service is only fun when you order four club sandwiches, four shrimp cocktail, a quart of rum, nine fresh grapefruits and a hammer. We actually would do this after about an hour after we had checked in. You know….not to arouse suspision.

Oh come on you guys! Watch “Bering Sea Gold.” Between the ranting, raving, swearing and usual rigged up repairs on these so called “sea worthy” craft, you’ll get to see some views of my hometown.
Also, the Weather Channel was up here filming on a Coast Guard C-130 doing recon work for our emergency Winter fuel supply. It will be on an upcoming episode of “Coast Guard Alaska” The Coasties don’t always get the limelight, but they really are true heroes.
Also, “Modern Marvels” wwas here a few months ago and filmed a balloon launch at our weather station.

Breakfast in bed and room service are both taboo to me. I did order room service from a fine hotel on Nob Hill in San Francisco. It was a luxury she had always dreamed of. While I took the kids downstairs to eat, she had breakfast in bed. Upon my return, true to form, I couldn’t do anythimg right. The eggs lukewarm. hashbrowns soggy. yadyaydayada.

However, the trip turned out well. Riding a train across the country on Christmas, staying at a great hotel for the price a cheap motel would charge…and the best of the best was the look on my youngest daughter’s face. As we were leaving the hotel I tipped the doorman and his assistant, and asked the doorman if he could get us a cab to the airport. He told me, “Flat rate to the airport is $35, but I can get you that limo over there for $’40.”

He blew a whistle, motioned the limoover and this guy in full chaufer regalia opened the door, then put our luggage in the trunk. I admit that even I was a little overwhelmed, but my 10 year old daughter thought she was living in a Barbie dream world for the next half hour.